


Consumed with What's to Transpire

by nowhiteflaguponmydoor



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Modern AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Switching, Trap is Repressed, but he'll get there, piercintyre - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 00:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhiteflaguponmydoor/pseuds/nowhiteflaguponmydoor
Summary: John watches him come down (come back) and marvels at him; as gorgeous as Hawk is in the midst of it, he’s almost prettier, sated and sleepy and so, so sweet. John strokes his hair and is only slightly surprised to feel something bubbling up low in his belly. If he’s honest with himself, it’s something he’s felt for a while, and has been trying in vain to tamp down.It’s envy. He wants to feel like this, too.





	Consumed with What's to Transpire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pr0serpina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr0serpina/gifts).

> For Pina, who wanted sub!Trap. Happy Birthday!  
Thanks to Day for looking this over and cheerleading.  
Title comes from "Sex is On Fire" by Kings of Leon. I am nothing if not a cliche.

Hawk is beautiful like this: naked, desperate, and open. Every touch, every thrust, the effect is right there on his face, and it’s so raw, but also a thing of wonder. Being the one who coaxes him into the headspace where everything goes quiet for once and all he can focus on is what Trap asks of him is a beautiful, heady thing.

He brings Hawk over the edge (with no noise nothing but a soft keen against Trap’s shoulder) and comes just after him, finally pulling gently out of Hawk when he squirms. He pulls away just enough to grab the damp cloth and a bottle of water from the nightstand. He gives them both a cursory wipe-down and pulls Hawkeye close again, holding him tightly and rubbing his back as he catches his breath. “You’re so good, honey,” he whispers. “Ya did so good for me.” 

Hawkeye groans appreciatively at the praise and burrows closer.

John watches him come down (come back) and marvels at him; as gorgeous as Hawk is in the midst of it, he’s almost prettier, sated and sleepy and so, so sweet. John strokes his hair and is only slightly surprised to feel something bubbling up low in his belly. If he’s honest with himself, it’s something he’s felt for a while, and has been trying in vain to tamp down. 

It’s envy. He wants to feel like this, too.

***

They don’t play that often. Usually, the impetus for a scene is when they’ve both had a rough day or week and need something to break the tension. Trap has learned over time that Hawk isn’t afraid to ask for what he wants, but sometimes he gets so deep in his own head that sometimes he needs Trap to pull him back, to take him down. It took awhile for him to be okay with hurting Hawk (it’s just a bruise, Trap. It’ll fade. And besides, I /asked/ for it) and they’ve definitely had some bumps along the way, but it seems that when it comes to this, they’ve finally got it figured out. 

That is, until recently. 

There’s a part of John that is ashamed, that tells him this is wrong and he should not want this. 

But he does. 

He wants to lay himself at Hawk’s feet and say, “do what you want with me”, wants to please Hawk, he wants to do what Hawkeye has done for him countless times. But he can’t come up with the words. He can’t say the words, and it’s starting to eat at him. Between the two of them, Hawkeye has always been more expressive, more open. He wears his heart on his damn sleeve, though Trap thinks Hawk would be the last to admit that. And god, Hawkeye wouldn’t judge him for it, would probably be all too willing to try whatever it is that John...wants. 

Several weeks go by. Trap is becoming more and more on edge. This might actually kill him. Something has to give. And one day, it does. 

They leave the hospital together, and Hawkeye reaches for Trapper’s hand on the way home, and he pulls away. Both of them are quiet until they get through the door, which Hawkeye closes none too gently and says “Right. Out with it.” 

Trap is halfway to their liquor cabinet when he turns and looks at Hawkeye. “What?” 

“Whaddaya mean, ‘what’? You’ve been in a mood for two days now, and you yelled at Margaret this morning. You’ve never yelled at Margaret, at least not sober. So I’m asking you, Trap, what in the hell is the matter?” 

John steps back. He didn’t realize he’d yelled at Margaret. Had he really done that? 

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been standing there, open-mouthed, silent, until Hawkeye steps closer to him. “Trap,” he says. “Trap, is—is it something I did?” His voice is quiet, less accusatory and almost worried. 

Of course not! John wants to yell. The words don’t come. He feels put on the spot, all of these things that he wants to tell Hawk and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t… 

Hawkeye’s posture changes, the fight going out of him. “Look,” he says. Trapper hates the unsurety in his voice. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me. If it’s something I did, tell me, for fuck’s sake, so I can fix it! You can tell me anything, John.”

Trap just stares at him, but the words don’t come. 

Finally Hawk turns his head. “Alright,” he says, in a tone that is deliberately measured. “I’m gonna head to bed. Read a little while. G’night.” 

Trapper listens to his footsteps fade away and goddammit, something has to give. 

He pours himself a glass of gin and sits down on the couch, unsure of what to do. He turns the glass in his hand instead of drinking the gin. This won’t help. He sighs, putting the glass down and his head in his hands. Suddenly, it occurs to him. He can’t tell Hawk, but maybe he can show him. 

When he finally gets up and heads to the bedroom, Hawkeye is indeed sitting up in bed reading. He looks over as Trap trudges in but doesn’t say anything. Trapper knows he’s hurt, and he hates that, so he’s going to try his best to fix it. 

He strips down to his boxers and undershirt, taking a deep breath as he heads for Hawkeye’s side of the bed. Unsure and his heart beating rapidly, Trapper sinks to his knees, crossing his hands behind his back and bowing his head. He hears the rustle of Hawkeye’s book being tossed aside, and the Hawk is turning toward him, sitting so that his legs frame either side of John’s upper body. 

“Trap? What is this, what’re you doing?” 

Trapper leans slightly to the left so he can rest his head against Hawkeye’s leg. Slowly, Hawk’s hand comes to rest on his head. “Trap?”

John takes a few more breaths. “I want it,” he says, murmured into Hawkeye’s thigh. 

Hawkeye’s fingers comb gently through his hair. “You—you want what? Trap, I don’t understand.” 

“I. I want. What you do for me. I wanna do that.” 

He can feel Hawkeye go still. “You want to do a scene?” 

John nods. “But...I want you to...to do what I do to you. I want to feel how you feel.” 

Hawkeye’s hand moves to his face, tilts his chin up. “Is this what’s been bothering you? Is this why you’ve been so tightly wound recently?” 

Trap nods, blushing. He already feels better for having said this much. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

He hides face in Hawk’s thigh. “I...couldn’t. ‘S hard.” 

Hawkeye tugs at his hair, just hard enough to get his attention. He looks up at him. “Did you think I’d say no?” 

Trapper shakes his head. 

“Did you think I’d laugh at you?” 

Another shake of the head. 

“Hawk, it...it’s all me. My brain tellin’ me...that it’s wrong. I don’t think it’s wrong, but…” 

Hawkeye cups his cheek. “Thank you for telling me.” He runs his thumb along Trap’s cheekbone, gazing at him thoughtfully. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to take this slow, okay? Which means we’re not starting tonight. I need some time to think about how I should approach this, and we should sit down and figure out what kind of limits we both should have.” 

John gulps. Talking about it even more sounds like torture, but he knows Hawkeye is right; he insisted on the same thing when Hawk first brought this up to him. 

“In the meantime, I think you should come to bed. It’s been a long day, and I spent it worried about my boyfriend.” There’s just enough of a teasing tone in Hawk’s voice to take the sting out of the words. 

Trap gets up and goes to brush his teeth before crawling into bed next to Hawkeye. Hawk turns out the light and rolls to face Trapper. “C’mere.” 

Trapper complies, and Hawkeye kisses him, gentle and slow. “I’m proud of you for telling me. I know how hard it must’ve been.” 

Trapper nods. 

“Speaking of hard...turn over for me.” 

Trap turns over so his back is to Hawkeye’s chest. Hawkeye’s hand pushes up his t-shirt and strokes his belly. Trap’s stomach muscles flex in the wake of Hawk’s fingers. 

“Shhh. It’s okay. Think I’ll give you something to take the edge off. That okay?” 

Trap nods, already feeling the beginning of an erection. 

“I need you to say yes, Trap.” Hawkeye’s voice is soft, like velvet, as he trails his fingers up and down Trapper’s midsection. 

This, this he can do. 

“Yes, Hawk. Please.” It isn’t begging. The very concept makes John blush, but it isn’t begging. 

“Good boy,” Hawk croons, and Trap leans his head back against Hawkeye’s shoulder as Hawk’s hand travels slowly downward, wrapping around his cock. “Now you just relax, okay? I’m going to take care of you, I promise.” 

Trapper feels like the air has been punched out of him, and he hasn’t even come yet. 

Hawk coaxes him with gentle strokes until he’s hard and dripping, peppers the back of his neck with soft kisses and occasionally a playful bite. John squirms, chasing Hawk’s nimble fingers. It doesn’t take long before he’s right there, right on the edge, and Hawkeye leans in close and whispers “now” and John comes hard, a whine escaping him. Hawkeye strokes him through it, whispering nonsense that John doesn’t quite hear (and is kind of glad for it). 

When he feels like he’s got himself a little more under control, he goes to turn over, thinking he’ll return the favor for Hawk. Hawkeye holds him steady, though, and wipes the come off his hand onto John’s shirt. “No, baby, that one was just for you. I’m proud of you for telling me. We’ll figure this out together, okay?” Trap nods, wriggling a little so he can dispose himself of his soiled shirt. Hawk helps him out of it and tosses it off the bed before leaning back in to hold Trap close. 

“Hawk?” His voice sounds far away; he’s already dozing off. 

“Yeah, Trap?” 

“I love ya. And I’m sorry.” 

Hawkeye kisses the nape of his neck. “I love you too. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”


End file.
